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Archive of "society" Category
Flying the Flag
It seems that the Gods / Forces of Coincidence want me to blog, as so many things have been happening lately that have brought me to the same collection of thoughts.
I think the first and most major event was the World Cup. There was something of a minor furore over whether it was Good and/or Right for the flag of England to be flown outside of Number 10, Downing Street in support of the English football team. To those who care about these things, it was somewhat offensive to the other members of the United Kingdom that the largely-resented “dominant” partner in the union was to get its flag flown outside the headquarters of that union.The defence was that, if the Welsh, Scottish, or Northern Irish teams had qualified for the competition then their flags would have been flown also. This is almost certainly true, I would say; it would be insensitive and politically suicidal to operate any other way. Nevertheless, the minor uproar was inevitable. And that is what interested me: why do people get so worked up about these things?
The second was the horrific oil spill in the gulf, and the strange conversation that followed the coverage in the USA. There was talk that BP should be referred to by its acronym and not as “British Petroleum” as this ran the risk of generating ill will toward Britain as a whole. The strangest part, though, was a debate I heard on BBC Radio 2, which asked whether we as the British Public should be criticising the company or defending it. This was not on the basis of its actions, however – the facts of the actual case seem to have been counted as largely irrelevant. No, rather the debate hinged on the fact that it was an (at least nominally) British company. Apparently a lot of British pensioners have money invested in the stocks, for instance.I was surprised, I must admit – in my rather naive way – that this was really so open for debate to people. If a corporation acts in an irresponsible way, or fails to act in a responsible way, then they should be criticised. They should not be deemed worthy of defence purely by virtue of their nationality or the self-interest of stock investments. Is it really so mad to suggest that this approach is totally backwards?
Finally, there came the always-inspiring genius of Bill Hicks. I went to a showing of American: The Bill Hicks Story, a documentary about the great man’s tragically short life, and there was a short clip about the burning of the flag and how extremely people tend to react to that particular form of expression, particularly in the U.S.. It certainly seems that the more vocal incarnations of patriotism that we experience over on this side of the Atlantic are far more widespread on the other. Perhaps this is a false impression, but in a country where children are expected to recite an oath of fidelity to that country, patriotism is certainly taken very seriously indeed.The question that kept occurring to me through all of this is one that first struck me after a throwaway comment on the radio. It may have been a politician commenting on the Downing Street Flag Fiasco, I can’t remember. But the comment was a qualification to the main portion of their argument, and was along the lines of “I’m proud to be British”. This was then joined by other phrases from the same conversation about what nationality people considered themselves: “I’m Scottish first and British second”, for instance, or “I’m English first and foremost”.
I just thought, am I alone in not strongly identifying with the state I was born into? Whether England or the United Kingdom? Am I the only one who feels no compulsion to qualify any sensible, well-reasoned comment with “Of course I’m proud to be British”? I do hope not.
Pride is something that should relate to an achievement, generally speaking. I am proud of some of my writing; I am proud of gaining my degrees at university. I am not proud of an accident of birth. I am happy, to some degree, to be British. Certainly it has afforded me a great deal of advantages simply not available to those in less affluent countries. I am happy that I live in a country that, generally speaking, allows a significant amount of freedom of expression. But I am not proud to be British. I don’t feel that the adjective applies.
I don’t see patriotism as a useful force in the world. What it does in terms of promoting solidarity within a country and a sense of national identity is positively counter-productive in an increasingly global society. The oil spill is the perfect example: almost as much coverage has been given to the international relations aspect as has been given to the fact that it is a disaster on an incredible scale. Why do people care that it’s a nominally British company, when the spill is affecting several states with no regard for national boundaries? I am increasingly convinced that we need to regard ourselves as citizens of the Earth first, with this taking precedence over any national identity we might feel.I leave you with the incisive wit of The Great Hicks…
Smokescreen
I wish I could be surprised by this news, but instead I am simply resignedly outraged:
Drug adviser sacked for comments.
The man has criticised the government – not just policy, but ministers themselves – based on their handling of the evidence regarding drugs such as cannabis, LSD, and ecstasy. They are hopelessly blinkered into a negative view of these narcotics, despite reliable and repetitive evidence to the contrary. I won’t go into great detail here because this is certain to hit the blogs written by those with far more knowledge and time to spend on research and writing these things up.
Suffice it to say I am once more disappointed in our government, though far from surprised. The only good I see coming of this is that perhaps – just perhaps – they will lose more votes in the impending election, and maybe even raise awareness of the hopelessly ignorant drug policies in effect in this country.
Single-issue Parrrrties…
I realise this is old news to most people by this point, but I’ve been stupidly busy over the last month or more and just haven’t had the time, or indeed inclination, to blog. Even my creative writing, which takes precedence, has suffered lately. But enough of that. What is this old news to which I refer?
The UK now has an officially recognised and established Pirate Party. No, this isn’t some attempt to nationalise children’s birthday entertainments (at least I don’t think it is); it is a serious political organisation with a serious message.That message, according to their website, is threefold: reform copyright and patent law; end excessive surveillance; ensure freedom of speech. Definitely policies I can get behind. But despite the multi-pronged nature of their “manifesto”, I have a hard time not categorising them as a single-issue party. Perhaps they would not dispute this.
The problem here is that single-issue parties do not get elected, and nor should they. For instance, at the time of writing this, their official manifesto contains the amusing line “Pirate Party UK has no opinion on whether Britain should or should not be a member of the European Union.” Is it sensible for a political party, I.E., a group presumably campaigning for votes, to have no opinion on this central topic in British politics? Even if you do not accept this, and think that “no opinion” is a perfectly acceptable position to take on Europe, then skip down to the economic policy. Yep, that’s right, they don’t have one.
As with every single-issue party, it seems that the function they intend (or are at any rate “destined”) to perform is that of a pressure group. Their true effect will not be measured in votes, but in public awareness of the issues; though it is true that any votes they do receive may well push the major parties into more serious consideration of those issues.
But why go to the trouble of creating a political party, when a pressure group is subject to far less red tape and hoop-jumping? If it is an effort to be taken more seriously, then they missed the lesson of the Snowdrop Campaign in 1997 – possibly the most effective UK grassroots pressure group in recent history. Indeed, their petitions resulted in new legislation being pushed through almost immediately by a new government terrified of the media’s disapproval after the horrific Dunblane Massacre. The resulting legislation, however, was rushed; as a result it was near-unenforceable and had to be reworded.
The media has evolved significantly since then, of course. 12 years ago the internet was just barely beginning to function as a media outlet, and the Snowdrop Campaign was one of the first to utilise its potential as a mass-communication tool. The Pirate Party is a group which, with technology as its primary background, is in a position to take full advantage of the new media, Web 2.0, or whatever other buzzword you’d like to use for it.Should they be an established political party? Well, it’s probably not necessary. But I do wish them the best of luck in getting their message heard.
Common Sense Ethics
Fair warning: this entry contains philosophical theory. I have done my best to make it accessible, but if the very thought bores you, I suggest skimming or skipping this entry.
“If your Bible is an argument for the degradation of woman, and the abuse by whipping of little children, I advise you to put it away, and use your common sense instead.” — Lucy Colman, paper delivered at New York teacher’s convention (The Truth Seeker, March 5, 1887).
I recently came across this quote as it was passed on by a sceptic of my acquaintance on FarceBook. It’s an interesting one, and I agree with it – as far as it goes. But it might strike the average reader (or listener) as a tad simplistic, particularly those who believe that human reason is inferior as a moral guide to the teachings of whichever god is currently in fashion. What is this “common sense” to which she refers and which she places above religious morality?
Some believe it to be intuition. This isn’t far from the mark, in my view, but it is (of course) a bit more complicated than that. After all, following one’s intuition can lead to moral relativism – that is (at its core), the view that what one deems to be moral is so. If “common sense” is defined as being common through its being shared by the majority of people, then it most likely resembles a combination of various factors – the chief among them being intuition, empathy, and duty.
It’s a very interesting area of ethics, and increasingly popular among academics of such. Known generally as contextualism, or contextualist ethics, it is – to my mind – the first ethical theory to be informed by, and applicable to, the real world and real situations. This in contrast to those tiresome and unrealistic theories such as utilitarianism and Kant’s Categorical Imperative, which take morality to such abstractions as to be very useful in philosophical discourse, yet renders them of little use in real situations. Are we to believe that proponents of these theories truly stop to consider, in the midst of an ethical dilemma, the possible outcomes of each course of action, and how those outcomes affect the overall happiness of those involved? Or weigh whether or not what they consider to be the right course would work as a universal law?It’s possible, of course, but even if those few did so, it would not be a realistic approach to ethics, acceptably applied across the board. The question that begs to be asked here is: people are, generally speaking, moral. What is the phenomenon that causes this? Is it the hand of an invisible deity, silently and carefully guiding us? Possibly, but probably not. What is more likely is common ethical sense – also known variously as contextualism, role ethics, and vocational ethics, among others. It is also closely associated with virtue ethics, that school of thought founded by Aristotle millennia ago.
The gist of it is that we as moral agents see ourselves in various roles (this is related to the fascinating concept of narrative identity, or the narrative self). Each of these roles carries with it certain duties in our perception, so for instance someone who sees himself in the role of a nurse might (indeed probably should) consider it his duty to care for his patients, or someone who sees herself as a student considers studying to be a duty. Of course, we all have a multitude of roles and therefore a great range of duties we see ourselves as being under obligation to obey – we see ourselves as mother, brother, godfather, employee, volunteer, carer.. to name but a few.
Ethical dilemmas arise from conflicts between duties. A Christian nurse has a duty to care for her patient who will die without an abortion; she also has a duty which flows from her faith to absolutely not administer or assist in that procedure. It is not a calculated balance between happiness in consequences that informs her decision, but a battle between these duties, between these roles. Ultimately one must be placed above the other, and the consequences of that decision must be dealt with in turn.
Life is not simple. Ethics, if it is to be realistic, has to be likewise complex and even a little messy. There are few, if any, right answers, objectively speaking. We don’t always make the right call, and our moral self-perception is ever-shifting as we take on new roles, and new duties within those roles; as we discuss these duties and roles with our peers; as we are informed by society at large what our duties should be.So perhaps this is common sense – messy, complicated, and the best we can do in the circumstances. I would argue that it is not morality that comes from religious teachings, but vice versa – naturally we are inclined to instill our own beliefs into the stories we tell.
Clarifying Irish Blasphemy
You may have heard, early last month, that Ireland has passed a new law regarding blasphemy. There also seems to be some confusion on the matter – is this a new law, making blasphemy illegal where it was previously not? Or is it perhaps a reform of an older law, which actually reduces the sanction on this offense from prison time to a fine? Either way, atheists and secularists of all stripes are up in arms, and a lot of them seem to be ignorant of the facts. When freethinkers start leaping to the defensive just from the very mention of words such as “blasphemy”, without examining the details, how can we claim the moral high ground? How are we better than fundamentalists? If we are to debate credibly, we need to be able to marshal the facts. This, in my mind, is one of the most important distinguishing aspects of the sceptical and secularist movements.So, what are the facts in this case?
The Irish Constitution requires a law making blasphemy an offense. Such a law was not passed until 1961, but did not satisfactorily define blasphemy – this led to the 1999 Supreme Court ruling that the current law was unenforceable. Instead of amending the constitution to remove the necessity of the law, however (which would require a national referendum), it was decided that it would be easier to enact a law that was enforceable. This passed in early July.
So, in effect, blasphemy is now illegal in Ireland, and while this has apparently always been the case, it is now a cogent and enforeceable law with a specified definition and penalty (and a hefty penalty at that – up to €25,000). It will however likely not be operable until late October, due to necessary modifications in the rules of court to accommodate it. There is a significant campaign to repeal the new law, and indeed it seems that there are good reasons to consider it to be in conflict with the constitution – not to mention the European Convention on Human Rights.
All this information is available at the excellent website Blasphemy.ie, and what is presented here is intended as a summary, attempting to clarify a situation which seems to be widely misunderstood.
So what’s the bottom line here?
Blasphemy is now functionally illegal in Ireland. This is a result of recent legislation which did not introduce it as an offense but rather clarified the law to a point at which it was enforceable. This was ostensibly done to avoid the costs of a referendum – which, as mentioned, would be necessary were Ireland to alter the constitution and remove the need for a blasphemy law. But, as Padraig Reidy points out, a referendum is planned for October on the issue of the Lisbon Treaty (a generally unrelated matter) – so why not save a few Euros and combine the two? And why set the penalty for blasphemy so high? Surely if it were a token law for the sake of convention, it would warrant only a token penalty. Does this perhaps hint at an ulterior motive for enacting the new legislation?I am clearly not in a position to comment on that possibility. Anybody who is would be gratefully welcomed if they cared to enlighten me. Suffice it to say that I have been a little disappointed by the sparse and superficial coverage this story has received – as usual, the reality is a bit more complicated.
To stay updated with this case, head to blasphemy.ie.
A symbol too far?
Just a quick thought today, prompted by the news that over 100,000 people in Britain are seeking to reverse their childhood baptism/christening [via AFP]. I sympathise with them, though I myself was never put through such a farcical abusive ceremony (thanks mum!) – but I can’t help but think that by doing this they are imbuing the ceremonies with far more meaning than they deserve.
If I’m right in thinking that these people want to be de-baptised because they have discovered the enormous unlikeliness of the Christian teachings and would prefer to live their lives as rational beings, then why do they care so much that some old chap mumbled some mumbo-jumbo over them and splashed their foreheads with water when they were kids? Surely their seeking of this piece of paper is demonstrative of their belief that the whole ceremony is completely meaningless. The piece of paper is also meaningless, so why seek it out and pay cash money for it? Why do you care?
I fully support the National Secular Society, and if you’re going to donate money to an organisation and haven’t decided which yet, you could do worse than consider them in your shortlist. But I don’t approve of them selling something which is entirely meaningless. I thought they were against that sort of business.
In an entirely unrelated topic, I will soon be opening up a service for anyone who wants to be declared “Nice”. If you, as a child, were told by a parent or other authoritative adult (perhaps in a costume) that you were on Santa’s “Naughty List”, send me the small sum of £3 and I’ll happily print you off a piece of paper reversing your status as “Naughty” and declaring you “Nice” – for all the world to see.
Hampshire = Kansas? Not yet.
Being a Hampshire lad by birth, I was somewhat perturbed by the news that Hampshire schools are getting “advice” on creationism. Now, don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing inherently wrong with that fact – but it’s the kind of phrase that sets off alarm bells.
The worry is that it’s a “foot in the door” scenario which could lead to creationism* being taught in the classroom alongside science, and being given equal credence. Of course, this need not necessarily be the case here: at the moment the language being used to refer to this move is stressing advice rather than curriculum.
It is important that teachers know how to respond to inquiries from students about the relationship between creationism and evolution, and therefore an “advice package” seems like a jolly good idea. Exactly how good an idea it is, though, depends solely on the content of the report. I have written to Hampshire County Council asking them for a copy of the report, after having no luck searching online (there seems to be a direct link on the RichardDawkins.net forum, but at the time of writing this there’s a quite serious problem with the website).
So until I find out what is actually advised, I’d like to take a moment to think about what I’d like it to say. Ideally, as far as the science classroom is concerned, I think the advice should be simply about how to deal with pupils’ questions, and not how to raise the subject itself outside of that context. Creationism has no place in the science class. But that does not mean that pupils’ questions on the subject should be ignored or simply rebuffed. It is important that they are informed about why creationism is not science, and why it is not appropriate to discuss metaphysics in the science classroom. Also, I have no problem with creationism – and its relationship with science – being discussed in religious education classes; that’s where it belongs.
What I am afraid of is that this is not the tone that has been taken by the report; that, instead, it advises that it is entirely appropriate and even necessary to discuss creationism as a rival theory to evolution and the big bang. This is the area in which the creationists have been gaining most ground: in simply muddying the waters. The real problem will be that introducing guidelines for talking about religion in the science classroom will confuse rather than inform.
I’m all for getting pupils to discuss these issues, but everything that is done in the context of a science lesson should be science. Metaphysics should be checked at the door; it has no place in that setting.
* I use the word creationism as synonymous with so-called “intelligent design theory” because I hope that by this point nobody has any illusions. They are one and the same.
Antidisestablishmentarianism: a Comparison
Yes, part of the reason for this entry is that it is a legitimate excuse to use that word, much the same as happened with my A-Level Politics coursework. But at the same time, it’s also a very interesting subject, particularly when taken comparatively. Some of the issues I want to address here are: the prominence of the issue of the separation of church and state in the United States and United Kingdom; the reason for those different levels of prominence; and any implications there might be for the two societies. No doubt the discussion will range more widely, but that’s the basic structure I have in mind. So let’s begin.
I suppose the best place to start with this issue, as with most, is to define it. The separation of church and state is the phrase used to describe either the distance that organised religion keeps from the apparatus and activity of state politics, or the official, constitutional provisions for that distance. In short, it can refer to the rules, or to the reality. The U.S. and the U.K. have very different situations in both cases, and those differences are the subject of this entry.
Firstly, then, let’s look at the prominence of the issue – how high up is it in terms of public concern/awareness? Well, in the U.S., there are few more visible issues than the separation of church and state, with strong advocacy groups on the matter and implications for such diverse issues as prayer in schools, “In God We Trust” on the currency, and even gay rights. In the U.K., meanwhile, the issue is hardly on the radar at all; certainly there are similar issues with gay rights, creationism in the classroom, and various others, but rarely do discussions on these matters make mention of the established nature of the Church of England. It doesn’t seem to affect either legislation on, or public opinion of, the major issues.
So what is the formal position of religion in each of these nations? In the United States, there is a clear clause in the Constitution (Amendment I, concerning freedom of expression) prohibiting the establishment of religion by the state. What does this mean? Well, a fairly good example is the situation in the United Kingdom, as it happens: we have what is called an “established” Church here, the Anglican Church or Church of England. This means that not only is their brand of protestantism the official state religion (the monarch is still required to be a member of that religion because he or she is the nominal head of the Church), but also that members of that Church have seats in our national legislature.
Without going into great and tedious detail, the House of Lords is the upper house of the British Parliament, but has less legislative power than the House of Commons. It is also the highest court in the country. Among its 743 members, there are 26 bishops of the Church of England, known as the Lords Spiritual. It is hardly contentious to suggest that the presence of such figures in the legislature of the United States would be controversial and hugely unconstitutional.So why is there no such uproar here? Well, the right answer (to the extent that there is one) is of course terribly complex and most likely involves matters of social history, and the complex interplay of power between the state, the church, and the people. But at least a part of the reason is simply that we don’t have a constitution; there is no hallowed sacred document to which we can refer to determine if a certain practice or state of affairs is “allowed” by the rules upon which our nation was founded. Because, when you get right down to it, it’s hard to say exactly how or when – or even if – that happened. Certainly there have been a slew of treaties (the latest coming as late as 1927), but there has never been a document drawn up to compare significantly with the strict and explicit terms of the U.S. Constitution.
It is strange to note how reversed the situation seems to be between the U.S. and the U.K.; one might expect the country with overt religious influence in the legislature to be the one that experiences a great deal of religious influence on legislation. But rather, it is the nation with explicit prohibition of religious influence on the legislature that is the arena for so much religious lobbying and debate. So on the one side of the Atlantic we have a secular government and a predominantly religious society, and on the other we have a nominally religious government and a – for all intents and purposes – secular society. Is it a case of causation, or correlation?
The answer is, of course, complicated. I am tempted to argue that it is a combination of the two on both sides of the ocean, but in the States it seems to be more causation than correlation, and in Britain more correlation than causation. I don’t think it would be too controversial to suggest that the majority of British subjects are generally of an apathetic disposition with regards to religious matters; even the few who do attend church seem to be, for the most part, relatively liberal. Equally uncontroversial to me would be the suggestion that the U.S. was settled predominantly by religious persons, many fleeing persecution. For one reason or another, religion has persisted in a much stronger way in the U.S. than in Britain.
Now this is just speculation, but it seems to me reasonable to suggest that the current state of affairs, with religious lobbyists jostling and campaigning ceaselessly to crowbar some small modicum of their faith into the affairs of state, could have its genesis in the very constitutional measures designed to thwart them. Imposing secularism upon a strongly religious society could quite conceivably lead to strong resentment and this very kind of campaigning. Now, I’m not saying that the constitution is the only reason for the current state of affairs, or even that this is a worse situation than exists in Britain. Indeed, I think that the U.S. constitution is the only thing standing in the way of the country becoming an overtly religious one at the governmental level.
I can’t purport to know the reasons why Britain is, broadly speaking, a secular society. Perhaps it is partly because of the establishment of religion; perhaps it has instilled in the religious groups a kind of complacency. But I doubt that this is the case. The fact of the matter is that in Britain, the Church enjoys far greater official power than religious groups in the U.S., but far less public support. As far as creating secular legislation is concerned, ultimately, having a secular society is more important than having a secular government.
The Power of Metaphor, or, Don’t Blame Santa
Before I begin, I ought to warn you that there is no real conclusion or argument to be found in this entry; it is rather intended as a collection of musings hoped to inform but primarily provoke further thought. Most of what is contained herein is part of an ongoing internal discussion I’m holding with myself, and this forms something of an update as to the point that that debate has reached. So open your mind, and read on.
I have made mention before of my status as a pagan atheist. It’s not just an incidental matter for me, either; while I don’t believe the Gods or spirits are actual entities capable of any kind of interaction with this world, I believe they are powerful and practically useful metaphors for a great deal of human life. The Gods we choose for ourselves – if choose them we do – represent those principles which are most important to us. For this reason I tend more toward the Northern European pantheon, in particular the Norse Gods. If I had a Sabbath like the Christian Sunday or Jewish Friday, it would be Wednesday, named for Odin, a.k.a. Woden (Woden’s Daeg -> Wednesday) – for he is the figure with whom I most identify.
He is the symbol for wisdom, courage, and honour – among many other things. He is also seen as the guardian of travellers, much as the Christian Saint Christopher. All of these themes are ones which ring true with me: I aspire to be wise, courageous and honourable above all else; I can think of no qualities I would rather possess. There is also an emphasis on respect and reverence for nature in the Northern European religions, which it won’t surprise you to find has particular resonance with me.So why, you might ask, don’t I just identify with those qualities directly instead of expressing them through the language of mythology and religious faith? It is a good question, and one which I have asked myself on many an occasion. I think the answer, as far as I can fathom it, lies in what I refer to as the “power of metaphor”; that is, the linguistic and emotional force that can be expressed only in terms of phenomena that transcend the physical, evidential world. Humanity is known for being a fickle race, and a claimed devotion to an abstract concept such as justice seems to hold less force, somehow, than a claimed devotion to a deity personifying that concept. It is an appeal to the eternal nature of these ideals as opposed to the sometimes-fleeting nature of humanity’s adherence to them.
Another example of this that I recently found out about (thanks to my friend the Nietzschean feminist) is Laveyan satanism, which again is essentially an atheist religion. The ideals it favours are individualism, a realistic approach to humanity’s darker impulses and an acceptance of these drives as an inevitable an essential component of understanding what it is to be human. There is also a strong element of anarchism, a rebelliousness and hostility toward authority that is reflected in few other mythologies. But it is atheist – and specifically non-Christian, a claim which cannot be made by theistic Satanism – because it entails a commitment to these ideals only, not a belief in a literal Satan or lesser demons. There is much in LaVeyan Satanism which rings true with me and values which are shared by the pagan faith.On a tangentally-related topic, I also want to address the topic of Santa Claus – not as a metaphor, but as a belief tantamount to religion but treated as a socially-acceptable falsehood. This line of thought comes from listening to my backlog of Point of Inquiry podcasts, specifically the interview with Todd C. Riniolo. He noted an objection to the widely-used argument in sceptical circles that it is little wonder that people are credulous in adulthood when they are raised to believe in Santa Claus as children. It is rarely used as a forceful argument, usually instead forming a arbitrary comment; but nonetheless is worth addressing. Riniolo’s objection is that there is simply no proof that belief in Santa during childhood leads to credulity in adulthood. Indeed, he argues, the “debunking” of Santa constitutes many a child’s first truly sceptical activity.
I thought this was a very interesting point, and it contributed to an ongoing internal debate I’ve been conducting with regards to how best to raise a child in the sceptical mindset. It hasn’t helped me make up my mind on the subject, but has made a significant contribution to the complexity of the issue. Is it wrong to lie to one’s children in this regard, or is it a valuable experience that teaches them that deception (harmless or otherwise) is everywhere and that nobody is to be trusted implicitly? On a personal note, I think I “grew out of” notions like God and spiritualism around the same time as I did the notion of Santa. I don’t recall being annoyed at the deception, either; at some point it just became a childish absurdity and I scoffed at my parents for persisting in the charade.So would it be better or worse to deny one’s child this experience? Should we rather explain as best we can the lessons that would be learned through it, rather than perpetuate the white lies? At the very least, it seems that the lies do less harm than one might think.
Scepticism and Denial
During an interview on Point of Inquiry with Kendrick Frazier, the editor of The Skeptical Inquirer, I was interested to hear him address a point on what is often called “denialism”. This is the phenomenon whereby someone who has grave doubts about a certain doctrine or set of facts is labelled a “denier”, such as with holocaust denial, climate change denial, or vaccine denial. It is a point of annoyance for many freethinkers like myself that these deniers are given, by themselves and others, the epithet “sceptic” (so a climate change denier becomes a climate change sceptic and so forth).
Surely, though, that’s what they are – to some degree at least. They are “sceptical” of the claims made by those who believe climate change is real, or that the holocaust did happen, in so much as they doubt the claims. It is, as is so often the case, a matter of definition. In common parlance, there is nothing wrong with calling these people sceptics – it is much more usually seen as a position of doubt than as an attitude toward inquiry and evidence. But when the context of the conversation changes, and scepticism takes on its newer meaning with which readers of this blog will be familiar, it is no longer appropriate to refer to them in those terms.
The new meaning of sceptic, which has its origin in the U.S. with figures such as Carl Sagan and James Randi, is associated not with denial or promotion of particular doctrines, but rather an outlook. This outlook is one of free-thought, rational discourse and unbiased inquiry, and it is therefore a mistake to associate it primarily with doubt alone. Under this definition, those who oppose the ideas of climate change and the holocaust, for instance, should by no means be named as sceptics. Their minds are not open to the evidence, and their position is not flexible, as that of any good sceptic (under this definition) should be.
What they do is far more accurately described as “denial” than “scepticism”, so I agree with Kendrick Frazier that they should be referred to in this way. It is all part and parcel of the process to stake a claim on the word “sceptic”, and turn it into something far more positive than the curmudgeonly, narrow-minded, blind denial with which it is still too often associated in everyday contexts. Will this endeavour ever bear fruit, and is it worth it? Those are questions for another day. For now, it is enough to remember, whenever you hear someone referred to as a “sceptic” with respect to a particular issue, to ask whether the word “denier” would be a more accurate description.
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